Author: phylliscreative

JOURNEY FOR LIFE

Posted on by phylliscreative

It was just an ordinary envelope really. An ordinary, rectangular brown envelope, lying on the mat, there in my front hall. Could have been anything really. Car tax reminder, I’m always missing the date. Dental appointment, can’t miss that. I have this fascinating fear, periodontal paranoia, fear of losing my teeth. Optician’s appointment? I’m a bit forgetful about this. Shouldn’t be really, not at my age. Overdue library book? Surely not. I work in a library, for Pete’s sake. But again, you know what they say. Doctors and nurses make the worst patients. Hmmm! No, I’m sure I don’t have any late literature.

Until I picked it up and opened it I really didn’t know what would be revealed. I wasn’t apprehensive in the least. Why should I be? Everything in my garden was rosy, wasn’t it? I ripped open the missive and scanned the contents.

Terror built slowly in my mind. I froze with the letter in my sweating hand. Light-headed and faint I groped for the nearest chair and sank gratefully into it. It was a different person who calmly refolded the letter, placed it back in the envelope and set it gently on the kitchen table. A different person when the shaking commenced, a different person when the tears started to flow. My daughter-in-law Sarah didn’t recognise my voice as I attempted to speak to her on the phone.

They, they’ve found a lump. A lump in my breast. I have to go back for more tests on Monday, ” I sobbed.

She listened shocked but then hastened to reassure me of the 98% of false alarms.

“Phyllis, they have to check everything. Honestly, don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

That was Friday evening. By Saturday night I had partially succeeded in blanketing future events, but by Sunday dinner time fear and trepidation soured my stomach and an immediate disposal of vitals consumed was imminent. I was so frightened. So very frightened. Monday morning dawned bright and beautiful with a hint of hovering heat. Sleep was a yearned for state which had not visited me in the night and I sluggishly got out of bed. My fateful journey had begun. Today’s end seemed a longed for lifetime away.  My mortality had never been an issue with me before, but it was now uppermost in my mind. Because of my Mum. Lumpectomy she had. Perfectly fine now. It’s hereditary, you see. My turn now. Maybe I won’t be so lucky. My drive to the hospital was a blinding blur, my mind wandering off in terrifying tangents Perhaps I was spared death by driving for my life to be cancelled by cancer. This situation felt surreal.. I didn’t feel sick. I certainly didn’t look sick. So why was I heading to an appointment which would dictate the remainder of my life and the length of it?

Approaching the sign for the clinic I had an uncontrollable urge to turn the car around and head away, away to a quiet place, a retreat, somewhere to think and plan for the future, somewhere safe where bad things didn’t happen. Common sense and courage prevailed, all that would have to wait until the final verdict, when hopefully I could gain my stability and continue on life’s long journey unscathed. It was a journey I had to face but not alone. I have a lot to be thankful for. My family were my reason for living especially my three beautiful granddaughters and two handsome grandsons. Help was available if and when needed. My daughter-in-law Karen met me at the hospital, she worked there and accompanied me to the clinic. Whispering reassurances in my ear she walked beside me. Strange, I have gone down these corridors many times in my life – meeting my new gorgeous grandchildren for the first time, appointments for arthritic relief and numerous trips to casualty. Today these self same corridors, seemed ominous and overpowering  – walls closing in on me, floors rising to meet me….Karen caught me as I stumbled and we continued on.

Whatever today’s outcome would be, things would change. I would change.Not wasting the precious time given to me, experiencing life, experiencing adventures, experiencing everything . Life is a journey, tragically shorter for some than for others but the mantra for all remains the same

Live life to the fullest

Love to the limit.

Laugh until your sides hurt

And listen to at least one Daniel O’ Donnell lament!

That will be your penance!

,.

LOST SOULS

Posted on by phylliscreative

Dawn of day warns me its time to leave

I gaze upon my love. Oh how I grieve

But soon he will arise, reborn, undead

Skin of silk and lips of ruby red

 

But fiery sun your rays are death to me                                                bnn

Why that is so remains a mystery

Perhaps because I am a child of night

I sink into death’s sleep

When day is bright

 

Darkness comes I hasten to arise

The gift of human blood my well earned prize

Pulses halt and so my victim dies

My feeding done I close their sightless eyes

 

I wait for him to wake and rise undead

Raven hair and lips of deep blood red u

Beautiful boy, my need for you is great

Arise now, No more can I wait.

 

RUMOURS

Posted on by phylliscreative

 

“There she is! There she is!” Mrs Russell, belying her age, bounded up and down at the window, practically dislodging her heavy damask lined drapes which matched her green and plum fabric futon and her deep burgundy Wilton carpet.

“George! George!” she  tortured her long suffering spouse with the shrillness of her cries, determined to gain his attention with her discovery. George wisely stayed where he was, shaking his head with disgust and turning his attention to more important items of news in his daily paper. He loved his lady wife but she was cursed with an insatiable curiosity,. It’s nosiness really, which had caused untold ill will amongst the neighbours, who tended to shun the Russell residence.

“Elsie, come away from the window. It’s none of our business.You’ll upset the postman again. The poor man hasn’t yet recovered since you ran at him with a rolling pin. Poor Joe took off like a hare..

“I should have won that competition, George Russell, my slogan was the best. I was not accosting the postman. I just thought he’d forgotten to leave my prize letter. The language he used was not English, I can tell you that.” Folded arms hoisted up a hefty bosom and she scowled at her husband.

“Sit down and I’ll make you a nice  cup of tea , Luv,” George coaxed.

“Tea! Tea!” Elsie spluttered. “That ne’er do well over there is having an affair and his poor wife pregnant with her third. Shame on him! She’s out working all day. What does he do? Has organisms with another woman!”

It’s orgasm, Elsie and how do you know about them?”

“Well may you ask,  George Russell.”

“Elsie! Tea!”

“I read it in a magazine, if you must know. Most people have one at some time or other. A lot don’t. Did we, George? Do you think we could have one tonight?”.

“Elsie, I’m seventy six, you’re seventy two. I have false teeth, hip and knees. You have arthritis in both shoulders and a hearing aid. You wouldn’t even know if I breathed heavy. Now get away from the window.”.

Elsie shrugged her shoulders, upsetting her arthritis. Now she’d never discover what all the fuss was about.

“Well, she certainly dresses nice but she has a funny walk and she keeps holding on to her hair,” she continued to scrutinise her neighbour. “I’m just going to phone Iris.”

George sighed, settled himself on the sofa and snoozed. If he knew his wife and he certainly did after fifty years of marriage, the whole of the W.I would know about the goings on at number 86 Willow Parade before too long. And he was right. After almost ninety minutes of whispered words, tut-tuttings and sharp intakes of breath, Elsie hung up the phone, smug and satiated with slander. Seeing her husband snug and secure on the settee, she smiled with genuine affection and decided to take a little trip to the supermarket and surprise him with his favourite sultana squares.

But Elsie was in for a bigger surprise as she stepped into the store. The lady of ill repute that she had just spied on was shopping arm-in-arm with The Woman. Heavens! What kind of street was she living on?

As she hastily turned to leave she heard.

“Elsie, have you got a minute. I’d like to introduce you to someone you might know..”

Susie McEvoy, the cuckolded wife was beckoning her over to meet the Strumpet. Oh My! The poor Dear! Didn’t know what was going on!

There was no escape for our Peeping Tom.

“Hello Susie and how are you. You are looking radiant, ,so you are. Babies bring out the best in us, isn’t that right, Miss eh? Mrs eh?….”

As she addressed this last remark to Susie’s companion, a flicker of recognition flitted across Elsie’s face. Could this be the scum’s sister? An affair with his sister! Sodom and Gomorroh!  She was so familiar looking, so not feminine look…..

No! No! Not possible!

“Elsie, I’d like you to meet my husband, Harry. He’s a cross dresser and to save you the trouble of searching a dictionary, it means he loves wearing women’s clothes. Is that a problem? I thought it better to impart this news as I’m sure your poor arthritic shoulders can’t take any more of hoisting you up to see through your diamond bevelled, triple glazed window.”

And with that she reached up and kissed her lip sticked hubby, hugged him lovingly and left with head held high.

 

 

th bhj